Can't Find A Better Man
by ana22
Summary: What is Claire's true motive behind being with Charlie? Desmond narrates. WARNING: Hints of Daire and PB&J but NOT A SHIPPER FIC.


**I got this idea when I was listening to a fab song by one of my favorite bands (_Better Man_ by ****Pearl**** Jam) that has always reminded me of the Season 2 and early Season 3 C/C relationship. I've opened and closed this fic with the some of those lyrics. Definitely not my best piece of work but feedback is always great so please R&R!**

Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of its characters.

_she lies and says she's in love with him, can't find a better man...  
she dreams in color, she dreams in red, can't find a better man...  
she lies and says she still loves him, can't find a better man...  
she dreams in color, she dreams in red, can't find a better man...  
can't find a better man  
can't find a better man  
_

Being on this island is hell on earth. Granted, it's better to be stranded on a beach with other people than buried several hundred feet below the earth in solitude but it still eats away at my soul. It's impossible not to form acquaintances with the others who, like me, are living a nightmare; however, it's very clear to me by the way they go about their daily routine as if this is normal that perhaps it has not registered to them that they may never leave this godforsaken place.

Claire is no different than the rest. She and the young English fellow, Charlie, remind me of two children playing house—from their shelter made of scrap wreckage material to their dishes made of seashells and coconut hulls—their entire romance seems empty. Even from afar, the baby looks artificial, like a plastic doll with only a cloth diaper and blanket as accessories.

You see, I've been watching Claire since the first moment I laid eyes on her. The way that long, blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders and the seductive look in those intoxicating blue eyes stirred something deep within me. Perhaps it was caused by a mixture of my own inebriation and the fact that I haven't been with a woman in too long to mention.

My initial intentions were flirtatious but when she responded to my inquiry about the baby's father, I knew that to consider a mere dalliance with this woman would be a mistake. I could tell by the haunted look in her eyes that deep inside she was consumed by a web woven from pain, betrayal and disappointment. The look sobered me and I realized that if I made further suggestive comments toward her, I would only be asking for trouble.

I've since ascertained that her seemingly perfect relationship with Charlie is deceiving. In taking a closer look, I've seen what happens when they argue about his controlling behavior and the way he tells her what is best for her son. She always caves in to him. It's obvious by the way she constantly uses her charm and look of innocence to befriend the gentlemen on the island—she wants to be noticed, wants out before it's too late and she's sucked into something she can't get out of.

I also see the menacing stare Charlie gives me every time I'm near her and the fury in his eyes when she and I exchange pleasantries. Deep down, he knows her agenda and he sees me as an actual threat. The only thing he can do about it is to convince her that she can't make it without him by using intimidation and control to lure her in further and further.

Yes, I've seen her type before. The more I watch this young couple, the more I see a resemblance to a situation I know all too well.

After my father's death, my mother, who had no other way of supporting herself, married the first man that showed her attention. He quickly became the dominant force in their relationship and the longer they were together, the more submissive she became. I never knew of him to be abusive to her but the light she had in her eyes when my father was alive slowly began to fade. I didn't hate the guy. I just hated how he controlled her and turned her into a hollow shell of what she once was.

During my teenage years, after they would have dreadful arguments, I often asked my mother why she stayed with him. She would always defend him and tell me it was none of my business. The last time I asked her that question, was about a week before I left for Los Angeles. She replied, "Because it's better than being alone." I knew she would never leave him.

All there is to do on this bloody island is think—about the past, the present, the future—reliving moments, wishing you could change things, analyzing the reasons why things turn out the way they do. Your mind revolves in a redundant cycle that always ends leaving you feeling even more ambivalent than when it began.

I like to come to these cliffs to be alone and watch the way the waves make a different pattern each time they pound against the rocks, much like the paths our lives might take if we were given numerous chances to change the past. My deep contemplation is broken when I see someone approaching out of the corner of my eye. It's Claire and she's alone.

I ask her to join me and we make small talk on the secluded beach. She asks me about myself but I don't divulge too much, not wanting to get too friendly for fear of giving her the wrong idea. I know it's a double edged sword— being forward will only give her false hope but being vague creates a mystery, intriguing her even more.

Just as I suspected, I see the enchanted look on her face as she slowly leans toward me, closing her eyes. A wave of anticipation hits me as our lips meet and our mouths move together in a steady crescendo. For a moment, I consider giving in to my male desires and having my way with this young beauty. Her lips feel incredible as she puts her hands in my hair and pulls me toward her urgently.

If it were purely about lust and sexual fulfillment, maybe I would continue exploring her sweet mouth with my tongue as she groans against my lips. Enticing as it is to think about undressing her and feeling her soft skin against mine, I know it's about much more than just physical pleasure for her. She wants things from me that I don't have to offer.

When my rational side wins this internal struggle, I break the kiss and firmly push her away. She touches her mouth with the tips of her fingers, her face a reflection of disbelief. "Sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"Yes you did." I call her bluff. "Claire, I'm not the man you're looking for." I hope my rejection doesn't kill her hope of finding happiness and perhaps independence, but as she looks at me, I see the light in her eyes slowly begin to fade.

"What? How dare you!" She immediately becomes defensive, confirming my assumptions about her. "You don't know anything about me." I know her better than she knows herself.

I wish I could help her but to have a fling with Claire will only set her back even further so I offer the best advice I have to give. "He's out there somewhere. You just haven't found him yet."

As I watch her storm off, I know she probably never will.

_she loved him, yeah...she don't want to leave this way  
she needs him, yeah...that's why she'll be back again_


End file.
